Poetry

When I was six, I wrote to you in a way that mattered. I dreamt of becoming…

Was just saying
the other day how prison never leaves you
whether you’ve been in for a week
like celebrities with their holy money…

Never mind a place setting,
the head of the table has
never looked so limp.
Picture a bear

Death roll me like alligators in love.
Let’s eat crappy fish sticks

stands on a book. The brown bird stands on an orange

the sheep was born with anxious bones,
our arms wet with residue as the life bleated out

When you find yourself wild,
wedged between toilet and tub porcelain

They’re out of place here.
He sees it in their eyes,
in the way they move:
wary, almost drunk.
Could be he’s merely projecting

warm palms against the soft flesh of nectarines
sweet honey drips

You gotta love
all your little hatreds,
all your petty
annoyances